


Happy Little Pill

by relativelystupid



Series: What Do I Have Here? [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relativelystupid/pseuds/relativelystupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He takes from me. He takes me.</p>
<p>And i let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Little Pill

**Author's Note:**

> I owe no one any explanations
> 
> I own what is rightfully mine.

Happy Little Pill  
I’m like a heroin dart. 

At first, the small prick of the needle hurts, but then you give me a little push and it’s heaven. Cold floods your veins and you fly, and trust me, I know what it feels like to fly. It’s carefree and fluid, your wings just draped across your back as you glide, like a sharp bullet, cutting through the wind. 

At the same time, I’m like his own happy little pill.

He takes from me. He takes me. 

And I let him. What can a pill do, anyway? He takes me, and everything from me, his green eyes just drinking in who I am and what I am. All six feet of pale skin and blue eyes, I am Castiel. And the man standing right in front of me, taking my scent in like a puff of marijuana, green eyes and weathered hands, is Dean Winchester. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was memorizing me. But now, it’s just a form of release. Unlike way back then, it was a form of release and an act of love. But now it’s all about being alive and feeling alive, so I let Dean hold me roughly, because pain is the only thing that’s constant anymore. My sights are blurry, but I feel him biting away, teeth leaving marks on my blessedly clear skin, and I know people will see it tomorrow when we go on a supply run. 

Dean growls at me. 

Someone knocks on the door. 

We spring apart so fast my head whirled, even more so, and my eyes stopped seeing for a second. As Dean opened the door, I make my way to kitchen— or a rendition of a kitchen— and drank straight from the pitcher, my dry throat burning even more as I hear the shrill voice of Lisa screech at her husband, because I was there when they exchanged vows, in the middle of dead Croatoans, with me doused in blood, and Lisa just standing there, just being a burden to everyone around her. I hear them, and they’re talking about me. As usual. So I take the Vicodin from my pocket and I toss two into my mouth, rolling them around before swallowing them. 

_“—with the whore? Are you— fucking.."_

_“I’m not— he’s nobody!”_

That’s all I hear, frankly. 

“If you wanna screech and bitch around, I suggest you take it outside.” I say as politely as I can, but my words sure are slurred, and my body being held up by the wall. I feel numb. Pleasantly numb. 

Lisa looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. 

“Look here, you whore—“ I scoff, because _understatement_ , “—you’re just his fucking girl on the side. I suggest you stop before we throw you out!” she spits, but I just cock my head to the side, looking at her, then to Dean, then to the obvious baby bump she’s sporting like a trophy.

”I’m more useful than you are even with my eyes closed, Lisa. You’re just his knocked up bitch. Just because you’re the pregnant slut, that doesn’t mean you get to call the shots.” It feels nice to see the shocked, horrified look on her face, and as predicted, she looks at Dean for help, but he thankfully remains quiet, because she may be the person carrying the next Dean Winchester, it doesn’t include being second-in-hand.

“The whore on the side is you, Lisa. Now get out of my home.” 

Dean waves her away, because even if he doesn’t like it, what I say rings true. 

As soon as Lisa is out the door, Dean bends me over the table and pulls up the flimsy thing I’m wearing, and pushes into me like it’s no one’s business. 

I late him take, because I’m his happy little pill. 

He grunts and pistons into me, and I, with my drug addled mind moans like his proper slut, bucking and spreading my legs further. My erection is wistfully ignored, and I hate the fact that Dean is so caught up in the fact that I’m so wet, and it’s like fucking a girl, that he forgets I have a dick. He tugs at my hair, pulling my head up to catch me in a bruising kiss, and I know that the hands on my hips will bruise because I’m a canvas for those things. 

“So tight— if you can get pregnant, I’d knock you up, Cas. You’d love it, my come inside you tight little pussy—“

“Stop talking and fuck **me**.” I don’t want to know what he wants. 

It’s always _take, take, take._

I tug him off and out me, pushing him to the bed, his back hitting the mattress audibly. I don’t care, because I want to take. I want him to give.

“Give me.” I hiss, straddling him and sinking down onto his cock, and he shouts, because what the other guys say about me is true. 

I ride harder than a cowgirl. 

I bounce up and down, and I know my face is twisted into a blissed out, flushed picture, and I reach down, pushing a finger inside my hole to add to Dean’s thickness. He and Alex double teamed me last night. I always come without touching my dick, because me having a dick actually disgusts Dean. But tonight, I’m the one taking. So I remove my hand from his chest and wrap it around my cock, moaning as I pump up and down. Dean watches me feverishly, eyes lust blown and his dick twitches inside me. Some of his come from earlier drips out of me and around his cock, and it’s much more slick than before. 

“Yes! Oh, God! You cock is so big—“ I scream because I want the others—Lisa— to hear how I fucked myself on her boyfriend’s dick, how Dean is the only man I’ll achieve nirvana with. 

I hear rustling. 

Dean is bucking, mouth spread into an ‘o’, and he pulls me down, kissing me again. We never kissed like this. Soft and loving. 

“No.” I growl, riding him harder. I’m sweating like a sinner in church, my ass clenching around his cock like a vice. 

“You’re so tight, Cas. So good, baby. Yeah, ride my cock, you whore—“ his voice is weak, and that just fucking does it. 

I scream. I don’t know what I screamed, but I screamed, come spurting from my dick and into my hand. When I’m finished, my limp cock hangs there, I stand up and away from Dean, leaving him still hard and unfinished. He looks at me, rage in his eyes. 

“Cas. Finish this.” He demands, because he can, but I’m the second-in-hand, not the second hand. 

“Go and fuck your main bitch, then. We’re done. You’re just a dick I can ride, now.” 

Dean leaves and he doesn’t fuck Lisa. 

I was happy. 

_Was._

The next night Dean comes back into my cabin to pull my leg up, fuck me sideways as my flavor of the night fucks my mouth, one of Dean’s friends rubbing himself off on one of my feet. 

I’m like a heroin dart. 

After you use me, I’m useless. 

But Dean is still pushing me in. Still wanting the ecstasy that I bring. The way I’ll creep into his veins and into his mind and chill his heart, numb his skin. 

I’m his happy little pill, after all.


End file.
